Hell Bent on Murder

By Robert James Bridge

Hell Bent on Murder.
After fifteen years as a cop in the met and the last five years spent working at a desk because of part of a bullet still lodged in his back from a failed bank robbery Jim Bent decides its time to move on and take up another career as a private eye. With his expertise of the streets of London and his connections with the underground Jim feels at the age of thirty five its not too late for him to take on a new career?.
This is the first in a four books series that takes Jim on a whirlwind tour of murder,revenge,corruption and blackmail.Crimes he never dreamed he would have to face again as a private eye, but five years at a desk had left him longing to go back on the streets he new so well, streets that included the world of prostitutes and their minders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert James Bridge
• Release date: Mar 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463628973

Robert James Bridge

The Black and White House has been reviewed by [e-mail] and a small section is attached to this intro!. Just been informed A Bolt From The Blue-The Halifax Explosion is to be published alongside Sealed With A Loving Kiss and The Black and White House at penitpublications.com or https://www.smashwords.com/ I am a prolific author of many books, books that may never see the light of day or indeed get published, but I love what I do and that gives me the hope that one day I see one of books in the stores. I do not write one specific area, infact my books are mostly diverse for instance. A Bolt From The Blue is historical fiction woven around a true story.A story that has mostly been erased through the sands of time . Un coup de bleu L'explosion de Halifax Available at penitpublications.com A Bolt From The Blue-The Halifax Explosion . The bells ring out in Halifax Nova Scotia Canada each and every year on December 6th at 9am to remind folks of the tragedy that happened in 1917 when two ammunition ships collided in the Harbour of Halifax and Dartmouth. A tragedy that took almost 2,000 lives. Kinmel Revisited is another of historical fiction woven once again around the fascinating story of the Kinmel Camp Riot in 1919 in North Wales. This book is also available at penitpublications or blazingheartpublishing.com The Black and White House is a on the edge nail biting thriller that will leave readers maybe thirsting for more of the same as Joshua Jenks a poor coloured boy from Memphis goes on to defy the odds by becoming a Senator and this is where his troubles begin!. At this stage I would like to introduce adult readers to my series of adult fictional crime. I say adult simply because each book contains explicit references suitable for adults. I have four books in the series and the first is now on Smashwords entitled Hell Bent on Murder,followed by Hell Bent on Revenge and if this has wetted your appetite then to come shortly is Hell Bent on Corruption followed by Hell Bent on Blackmail, all featuring ex met cop turned private eye Jim Bent. It is my hope one day to continue with Hell Bent on Collaboration, but at this juncture please by all means read of Jim Bent and his adventures when he leaves the met after fifteen years and takes on the role of a private eye.If you have enjoyed the first two in my series then Hell Bent on Corruption and Hell Bent on Blackmail will leave you thirsting for mor...

Book preview

HELL BENT ON MURDER

BY

ROBERT JAMES BRIDGE

PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT

MURDER IS WRITTEN AS CRIME DRAMA/SUSPENSE,

THERE MAY BE EXPLICIT SEX AND VIOLENCE

THROUGH OUT EACH BOOK IN THE SERIES.

AND CHARACTERS ARE FICTIONAL.

Introduction.

As I poured myself what was to be the last drop of scotch in the bottle I sat back in my chair watching the pictures the neon lights upon the wall of the office made. I reached for my cigarettes and realized I was trying to give the damn things up, I swallowed the scotch and my mind raced back to my time spent as a cop in the Met. My name? Sorry but I was stuck with a surname that for many of my years I was almost afraid to mention but seeing as we are about to become pals well here goes it’s Bent yes Jimmy Bent. Now don't you go laughing since I had heard all of the jokes; it was not funny any more, jokes from schooldays to my days in the Met.

My mind raced back fifteen years and a bullet still lodged in my back; was this all I was going to get for my troubles. I knew the modern day force was no place for Jimmy Bent ever since I got saddled with that damn desk job. of course I did not take lightly the thought of becoming a private detective especially as I knew I would be a target for each and every lowlife I had put away. Also my office and my ex-beat was one I knew very well since I had spent many a time walking it. I knew of the pimps, their minders and many of the girls who worked for them in and around Soho.

Entrance to the twilight world as I called it, began not long after I left the Met in fact almost immediately afterwards, as I returned home after an evening's drinking with my old pals I opened my garage door and confronting me was the figure of a well-known pimp, a rope around his neck hanging from a wooden rafter. I knew at that moment I was about to embark on a career that was to take me on a roller coaster of sex, violence and of course not forgetting murder. My mind then raced back to the looker that had entered my office earlier that day. As I picked up the phone to call my pals in the Met I found I could not get her and those long slender legs out of my mind. Now I had seen a lot of lookers in my time but none that set my heart racing at the thought of her. She wanted me to find her husband but I sure was in no hurry. Suddenly the doorbell rang and I was interrupted by the sound of the sirens around the house, was this to be the start of my first case.

Chapter 1

The building itself resembled something out of the eighteenth century; in fact that is probably when it was built. It had the smell of books about it and Jim wondered if it had indeed been a building used by solicitors and suchlike, men of great words such as Charles Dickens or other well-known writers whose names he could not remember. The building had no lift and Jim's office was on the top floor, so he had to endure the prospect of climbing the old stairs each day. The banisters were made of cast iron and each footstep could be heard echoing around the building. At first Jim did not like the idea of the stairs but his office was cheap and after many years as a pen pusher in the Metropolitan Police he felt the exercise would do him good. With the remainder of a bullet he had received whilst a bobby on the beat still lodged in his back, every now and then Jim felt a twinge; He also knew he would have to cut down on his smoking, this he soon realized as he approached the half way stage of the long winding stairs. Jim Bent had spent the last five of his fifteen years in the Met behind a desk. Fifteen years, two wives and the bullet wound was his contribution to a life as a cop.

As he stopped to catch his breath, he reflected on his marriages. The first Mrs. Bent he had met whilst a young cop at a local barn dance, and to be honest he had spent five happy years with Jill. She had given him a daughter to be proud of, but suddenly it all went sour. On the day of the divorce, she said: Sorry, Jim, but it was five years of hell for me, never knowing when your luck would run out, and never knowing when or indeed if you would be home. Jim was given access to see his daughter, Jane, who was approaching her fourteenth birthday; she lived in the family home in Surrey whilst Jim managed to purchase a small bungalow in Loughton, Essex. Jim's second marriage to a woman fifteen years younger than himself also ended in disaster. Cindy had been the victim of a suspected rape, and as Jim was given the job of writing out the paperwork he found he had got very close to her. In fact he thought he had fallen in love with her until he discovered that the man who supposedly raped her was in fact her lover of many years, a young man half Jim's age. Jim had set up home with her in her flat in Leytonstone and after returning home early he had found his new love in bed with her suspected rapist; that was when Jim realized he would never marry again.

On the day of the divorce he made a point of getting himself drunk. At the grand age of forty five Jim Bent decided to call it a day and try his hand at a new career. His retirement money would help towards the purchase of his bungalow and he knew his experience on the streets of London would be a great help in his new career as a private detective. As Jim continued towards his dingy office on the fourth floor, he wondered if he had taken too much on. He also wondered how long it would be before the bullet remains dislodged themselves and headed for his heart. Still, he said approached the office door, who knows when their time is up?

The floor was littered with newspapers and the air in the office was stale from lack of use. As Jim approached the desk he noticed it had a layer of dust on it and the chair looked as though it had indeed belonged to Charles Dickens. The large black phone reminded Jim of those old TV films when the phones were used to inform the War Office of an impending air raid. Still, it was his own and he was not answerable to anyone. After blowing the dust from the chair, Jim removed his jacket and remembered how Bogart had placed his jacket on the back of his chair in one of his films, and lit a cigarette. Although Jim wanted his name engraved on the office door at a future date, he sat down and imagined how it would look and wrote the words with his index finger, 'JAMES BENT, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR' sounds good to me, he said, if Bogart can do it, here's looking at you kid.

One week, a full ashtray and approximately fifty cups of coffee, and still he had no clients. The office he had cleaned up and he had advertised his services in the Evening Standard; his daily grind through the crossword was driving him mad and he wondered if he made a big mistake. Maybe the stairs had not helped or was it the fact that he was not a well-known name? He lit another cigarette and wondered why so many private eyes smoked so much; was it part of their image, or was it from boredom? He also knew that his first client would like him be out of breath: he also would know when and if he or she arrived because his was the only office on the fourth floor. Jim was suddenly startled by the sound of high heels on the staircase and his heart beat faster as he realized they were heading towards his office. It had been some time since he had heard the sound and he wondered if he were in fact dreaming.

Jim began straightening his desk; he emptied the ashtray and opened a drawer. At the same time he placed the pile of newspapers inside, and he then stood up and put his jacket on. Tie, wait a minute, got to straighten my tie, he said, as he continued to make his office look as though he were overloaded with work, and he then picked up the old phone and made out he had a client talking to him, Er, yes, sir, I will get to you in good time, er, say Friday morning, ten thirty and thank you for your assistance in that other matter. Jim was of course talking to himself because the operator was busy saying: "Please replace the handset over and over; the footsteps came to a halt outside his office door and Jim was busy trying to put a face to the high heels. His heart was beating as though he were about to go on his first date. Don't blow this!" he said to himself as he opened the door.

Her face was hidden by a large brimmed hat, the sort of hat worn by ladies who attend Ascot racecourse. As Jim's eyes started to work their way down her obviously shapely body he noticed she had on a figure-hugging dress that ended approximately six to eight inches above her shapely knees, her long shapely nylon covered legs were complimented by the high heels she was wearing. As she entered the office she sort of glided towards the chair Jim had offered her. He still had not seen her face but somehow he knew she was a looker, and although he had tried to get rid of the tobacco smell he noticed she had on a perfume that made him almost dizzy. Jim loosened his tie as he found himself suddenly perspiring. As she slid into the chair and crossed her shapely legs, Jim said: Er, good morning, Madam, can I be of service to you? He guessed her age to be approximately twenty to thirty; it was then that he wished she would remove that bloody hat so that he might see her face. Jim was by now dying for a smoke and as he reached for his cigarettes he realized he must not because after all his client might not be a smoker and the smell might put her off, so he reached for a pencil and played with it. As she reached for her hat it was as though the queen was about to launch another ship. In Jim's mind the champagne hit the ship as she looked up and smiled a smile that would complement the cover of Vogue. He then thought, She just has to be a model, or maybe a film star. Her long blonde hair fell half-way over her face as she retrieved a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her eye. Her lips were so inviting that Jim found himself staring at her in a sexual way. God, he thought, some lucky devil owns this creature sitting in front of me, but, no, I must concentrate and realize I must not get involved, a 'client is a client' and that's how it should stay.

To Jim's surprise she reached inside her purse and removed a packet of cigarettes along with gold lighter and as she opened her mouth to speak Jim noticed she had a London accent: Do you mind awfully if I smoke? I know it's not lady-like but I just need a smoke at a time like this. Jim opened his cigarettes and said: No, of course not, I’m a smoker myself. As he reached for the gold lighter to light her cigarette he almost touched her hand and as he did he once more caught the scent of her perfume. Thank god for that, he thought, I was dying for a smoke. She took a drag on her cigarette and shifted in her chair to reveal